Grr. Argh.
by angeloser
Summary: Hermione and Draco are sucked into a world filled with zombies. Pseudo Resident Evil crossover, and not to be taken seriously at all.
1. Raccoon City

A/N: This is my first attempt at both HG/DM and humor. It's a big depature from my normal style of ANGSTY-ANGST look-at-me-I'm-trying-to-be- poetic. The idea was born of late night silliness with my sister, who happens to be playing Resident Evil: Code Veronica. Blame her, not me.  
  
Standard disclaimer, not mine, etc, etc.  
  
*  
  
"I can't believe what's been happening to this city!" - Claire, Resident Evil II  
  
* Hermione Granger raced through the halls of Hogwarts, threading her way through the masses of slowly moving students. She was late, and if she didn't hurry, she'd never make it to Potions on time, and Snape was sure to take points off of Gryffindor. It was unlikely it would make much of a difference - Harry was bound to do something spectacular at the end of the year and earn everything back, but really, it looked bad when the Head Girl was late for anything.  
  
She tripped over an unsuspecting first year, and cursed silently. Hermione Granger was never late. Never. The stress of constantly studying for the NEWTs was catching up with her, and she'd fallen asleep in, of all places, the prefect's bathroom. Now she had to get to class in five minutes or she'd risk making a scene. She was almost to the door when she crashed into a body coming from the other direction.  
  
Hermione fell backwards, hitting her bum painfully on the stone floor. She glared icily at the figure who was slowly righting himself. Blond. Tall. Slytherin colors. He turned around. Draco Malfoy. Of course, who else could possibly cause her this much trouble?  
  
"Granger," he sneered, towering above her. "Clumsy as ever, I see."  
  
"I'm not!" she protested, but he wasn't listening.  
  
"If you're trying to get to class, you're too late. Snape's not there. We're all supposed to go to the library and write two feet on potions that enhance the senses. But I'll be sure to tell him you were late." He stepped on her robes, neatly pinning her to the floor.  
  
She pushed at his boot. "Get away from me, you rat."  
  
"Oooh, I'm scared." He intoned, in a way that made it clear he was anything but. "Am I losing house points for this?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione spat. "Thank for the idea. Twenty points from Slytherin." She stood up, tearing her robe.  
  
"What a pity," he said. He bent over to pick up the piece of black cloth that still lay beneath his boot, when something caught his eye.  
  
Hermione noticed it too, along with something else. "Wait," she said, "Why are we the only ones in this hallway. It was teeming minutes ago."  
  
Draco shrugged. "How should I know?"  
  
Behind him, Hermione saw letters flashing in neon: Convenient Plot Device. "That's weird." she said, before she realized that Draco had moved towards an object that was lying on the ground, three feet from her.  
  
She leaped towards him, trying to stop him before he picked it up. The both grabbed the small hourglass at the same instant, his hand slightly overlapping hers.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Is this yours?"  
  
"You know damn well it is, else you wouldn't want it so badly. Give it back." She tugged, but he was stronger than she, and she only succeeded in making him squeeze her hand.  
  
"I rather think I won't," he replied, and, in a move that was calculated to shock her, ran his finger lightly down the palm of her hand.  
  
Hermione gasped, but didn't relinquish her hold. "That's not going to work on me, Malfoy. I'm immune to your charms."  
  
He just grinned, and repeated the action, this time, lightly scraping with his nail, then rubbing smoothly with the pad of his finger.  
  
I will not, thought Hermione, allow myself to be turned on by this scum. She dug her nails into his hand, and watched him cringe.  
  
Draco took a step closer, invading her air. If he moved again, he'd be standing on her feet. She backed up, not loosening her hold on his hand. "Just let go Malfoy. You know I'm going to tell Dumbledore."  
  
"Again, I quake," he said. Then he caught her eye, licked his lips, and brought his gaze down to her lips.  
  
"That's not funny." She took a step back, colliding with a wall.  
  
He grinned, and took another step closer. "It's not supposed to be." Draco leaned down, so his forehead was touching Hermione's.  
  
"That's it!" she screamed, and shoved him.  
  
She'd caught him off guard, and he stumbled, taking her with him. They hit the floor together, in a tangle of robes and arms. Hermione, striving for control, threw one leg out, and only succeeded in turning them both around.  
  
An unseen voice boomed: "Convenient Plot Device!"  
  
"What was that?" said Draco, who was now kneeling across Hermione's knees. Their hands were still locked together.  
  
"I don't know," she answered, "But I'm asking whoever it us to help get you the hell off me!" She punctuated each word with a punch to his abdomen with her free hand.  
  
Finally, he let go, and she tucked the time turner back into her pocket. As she righted herself, she noticed something was very, very wrong.  
  
"Draco?" she asked, looking down at him.  
  
He looked up at her, clutching his stomach where she'd hit him. "What?" he spat, no longer smooth and seductive.  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
At that, Draco scanned the scenery, seeing what Hermione had noticed before. They were no longer at Hogwarts. They were no longer inside any building at all. They were in the middle of what seemed to be a paved street, surrounded by abandoned cars, and empty buildings. A large brick building stood to their right, emblazoned with a red umbrella.  
  
"I don't know," he said.  
  
It started to rain.  
  
Hermione, in an act of self-preservation, helped Draco get up. They'd have to stick with each other until they found out what the hell had happened. Together, they ran to the umbrella building.  
  
They stood under the eaves. "Wait," said Draco. "I'm not sure this makes sense."  
  
"Of course it doesn't!" exclaimed Hermione. She paused. "Which part doesn't make sense."  
  
Draco pointed to the building. "The umbrella. It's flickering."  
  
Hermione followed the line of Draco's finger to the large umbrella that was, indeed, flickering. She looked closer, and realized that the building was not, in fact, painting. The umbrella was being projected onto the brick, much like the bat signal. A quick glance found the projector not five feet away.  
  
"Convenient Plot Device" was stenciled in large white letters.  
  
"This is already getting old," she told Draco.  
  
He nodded. "Should we go in there? It doesn't seem like a terribly bright idea."  
  
"Do you have any other suggestions? It's in here" Hermione jerked her thumb towards the building "or a walk in the rain until we find other shelter." She looked him up and down, disapprovingly. "And I've the feeling you'd melt if we walked in the rain."  
  
Before Draco could even attempt to insult her back, Hermione had brushed past him and opened the door, which stated, in gold adhesive lettering, "Raccoon City Police Dept."  
  
Hermione smiled triumphantly. "See," she said, turning to Draco, "there wasn't anything wrong with going in here after all, was there?"  
  
"Aaaaaaagh," came a voice in the distance.  
  
"Draco?" Hermione asked, slightly bewildered. She'd assumed he'd follow right on her heels. What else did he have to do in a strange, flooded city?  
  
"What?"  
  
She saw him then; he'd just come in the door. As he walked towards her, she did the unthinkable, and grabbed his hand. Whispering tightly in his ear, she said, "Something's definitely not right here."  
  
"Oh, now you're agreeing with me. When we're already inside. Did it not occur to you that in places like this, doors have a tendency to lock themselves?" He smiled the trademark smug smile, and she dropped his hand.  
  
"Hello?" she called.  
  
The place appeared to be deserted. The front desk was abandoned except for. was that blood?  
  
Draco had spotted it, too. "Hermione," he said, "I think we should get out of here."  
  
"Aaaaaaaagh."  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Draco, that wasn't me!"  
  
Now it was his turn to grab her hand. They backed slowly towards the door, he looking to the left, she to the right. Neither saw anything, but again came the cry, "Aaaaaagh."  
  
"What is that?" Draco asked.  
  
"I don't know! I can't see it either!" she hissed back.  
  
"You mean you haven't read some book that catalogs the cries of every known being on the planet?"  
  
"I'm halfway through."  
  
"Well, shouldn't 'Aaaaagh' be in the first half?"  
  
She laughed. "I was being sarcastic."  
  
"Oh."  
  
They'd reached the door, but before they could open it, the Aaaaagh Monster Itself made an appearance. Moving slowly, it thumped its way into view, arms outright, and swinging.  
  
"Draco, is that." she trailed off, not believing she was really seeing the creature in front of her. ". is it a zombie?"  
  
He nodded, mutely, and Hermione swore his grip on her hand tightened. If she hadn't been scared out of her wits, she would have been cataloging his every move to tell Harry and Ron when she got out of this mess.  
  
"Great. This is just what we needed. You know we can't kill zombies with wands. We need one of two things."  
  
Draco just looked at her blankly.  
  
"Honestly! Am I the only person in the entire school who's learned anything?" She fixed him with a Glare of Doom, the one that had frightened Ron into studying for his last Potions final.  
  
When he looked sufficiently cowed, Hermione continued. "We need either a gun, or holy water. Really, Malfoy, it's common knowledge."  
  
"Thanks, Ms. Encyclopedia. I'll be sure to remember that the next time I'm thrown into some alternate dimension filled with flesh eating monsters." Draco was trying the door now, but it wouldn't budge. He gave her a look that said, "I told you so."  
  
"Zombies don't eat flesh. They just kill you." She tried the door herself, to no avail.  
  
"That makes it so much better." He was kicking the door now.  
  
The zombie wasn't moving at anything near a run, but in the time they'd spent bickering and trying to open the useless door, it had gained ground on them, and was now practically right next to them.  
  
"Screw this!" cried Draco, and abandoned the door, running up the set of stairs conveniently to their left. Hermione, whose hand he was still holding, had little choice but to follow.  
  
They reached a landing, and Hermione snatched her hand back. "That was brilliant, Malfoy! Now, not only are we stuck in a building which houses at least one zombie, but we're on the second floor!"  
  
"And it would be much better if we were on the first floor, being devoured by that thing."  
  
He really did have a way with sarcasm, Hermione had to give him that.  
  
"I told you," she said, "They don't eat you. Besides, I could have just done "Alohomora" on the door and gotten us out."  
  
He hadn't thought of that, she could tell. He bit his lip. "It might not have worked?" he offered weakly.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We might as well check out the upper level, since you've gotten us here. Maybe there's some water we could attempt to bless. Or guns. Or something we could transfigure into a gun."  
  
"You know, Granger, if I had to be trapped in a police station with zombies, I couldn't think of a Gryffindor I'd rather be trapped with." He thumped her on the back, which she wasn't expecting, causing her to take a clumsy step forward.  
  
"I'm charmed, Malfoy, I really am." 


	2. Dogs and Guns

"Could this be. Chris's blood?" - Barry, Resident Evil  
  
* Draco led the way, which Hermione was more than happy to let him do. Walking around blind corners where zombies may lurk was not one of her favorite activities. If he wanted to be manly and go first, he could. And if they met a zombie, it would attack him, and she'd have time to run away.  
  
They'd both taken their robes off and left them on the stairs. Black swishy material may have been appropriate for Hogwarts, but something told Hermione that they didn't need all the extra cloth getting in the way when doing battle with undead reanimated flesh.  
  
She walked several paces behind Draco, wand poised and ready. It wouldn't do much, of course - standard spells did nothing to zombies since they weren't technically alive - but it made her feel better to be holding it.  
  
"Do you see anything yet?" she asked Draco's back.  
  
"Yes," he said. "I see an empty hallway."  
  
Hermione had the urge to cast Petricifus Totallus, but decided against it. He may have been a prat, be she wasn't going to leave him as a sacrifice to the zombie gods. Yet. Instead, she fixed a penetrating glare on the back of his blond head.  
  
"Thanks ever so. It's reassuring to know that you're looking out for us."  
  
"It's dark, I can't see much."  
  
"And that's such a problem because you're not a wizard who is holding his wand." Hermione was very sorry she couldn't see the look on Draco's face, because judging from the way he held himself, it was bound it be entertaining.  
  
"Lumos," he said. Then, "I think I see a door."  
  
Hermione waited a beat, then said, "Well, is it a door or not? Open it!"  
  
"I'm listening. I don't want to walk into some zombie orgy."  
  
"We would have heard if there was a zombie in there. They're not very subtle, as you may have noticed early. They tend to favor lurching steps and "aaaagh" noises." She used her best know-it-all voice while telling him this.  
  
"A Gryffindor would think that way. Rushing into things half-cocked is what you do best. A little caution isn't going to hurt us." He pushed the door open with the tip of his wand.  
  
Hermione couldn't see into the crack Draco had made between the door and the wall. His head was in the way. She pushed him aside a little, and stood on her tiptoes, using his shoulder for balance. Her nose was practically in his ear.  
  
"Get off me!" he said suddenly, and pushed her aside.  
  
Hermione hadn't been expecting the attack, and was once again caught off balance. She crashed into the door, opening it in the process. She glared at Draco. "What was that for?"  
  
He shrugged, noncommittally. "You were hurting my shoulder."  
  
"Right. Because I'm so much heavier than you are. You can't." she was cut off by a sudden, intense barking.  
  
Draco's eyes widened. "Hermione! Behind you!"  
  
She turned around in time to see a large, black dog flying at her. It was no kindly Padfoot, but rather something that looked very much like it wanted to eat her alive, bones and all. She reached for the door and slammed it shut just before the dog crashed into it, shaking the thin wood and the knob.  
  
When she caught Draco's eye, he looked smug. "Quite silly of me to listen at the door, wasn't it?" he said.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Ooh, Granger, you wound me with your words."  
  
"No, really, shut up. We have to think of a way to distract that dog so we can get in there." She started pacing the hallway.  
  
From inside the room, the dog made another leap for the door, and it shook violently. Hermione thought she heard the wood starting to crack.  
  
"I have a better idea," said Draco. "We run."  
  
"That won't do! It'll just follow us. Besides, who's to say there aren't more dogs? At least we know there aren't any zombies in that room. There might even be something we can use in there." She nervously pushed her hair out of her eyes. Honestly, would that mess never learn to behave?  
  
"All right, have it your way. I'll sing God Save the Queen to charm the pup while you go into the office."  
  
Another quick glare shut him up, and Hermione continued pacing, while the dog again rammed the door.  
  
"I've got it!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Back up against that wall. The one opposite the door. We need to listen to the dog. Right after it makes its next attempt at the door, I'm going to open it. When I do, I want you to hit the dog with Petrificus Totallus." She beamed at him, happy to have solved the problem.  
  
"What if we can't hear the dog? What if you're not fast enough? He might jump you."  
  
"I'll handle it. Just do what I told you."  
  
Draco raised his hands in front of him, and shook his head, clearly thinking Hermione out of her mind. "Don't blame me when you're mauled and bleeding. And don't expect me to heal you. I'm no good at it."  
  
"Quiet! We need to listen for the dog!"  
  
He brought his fingers to his lips and made a zipping motion.  
  
This time, when the dog hit the door, Hermione was sure that she heard the wood splitting, and she swore that splinters were breaking off the door. As the dog fell to the ground with a thump, she turned to Draco, and held up three fingers.  
  
They made eye contact. Hermione lowered each finger in succession, then nodded. She opened the door, and jumped out of the path of Draco's wand.  
  
"Petrificus Totallus!" he cried.  
  
Hermione couldn't see the dog from her vantage point, but the soft "thwap" told her that Draco had been successful, and the dog was felled. She turned to him and smiled.  
  
"It worked." He sounded surprised.  
  
"I told you it would." With that, she flounced into the room, which appeared to be some sort of an office.  
  
Draco must have moved as soon as she did, because when Hermione turned around, he was right behind her. "Don't touch my shoulder," she cautioned. "I might shove you into something."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it." He walked to a desk on the far side of the office, carefully stepping around the felled dog.  
  
Hermione scanned the rest of the room, and found it to contain two more desks, and what looked to be a safe. There were computers on the desks, and a switchboard at one. None seemed to be working, though a crackling noise was coming from the switchboard. It wouldn't have mattered much if it had been in working order - Hermione had no clue how to use one. Besides, who would they call? Hogwarts had no telephones.  
  
As she was walking to the nearest desk, eyes glued to the sparking switchboard, Hermione's feet hit something soft. She looked down into the dead eyes of a policeman and screamed.  
  
Draco rushed to her side. "Wha-?" then he looked down, and screamed, too.  
  
In spite of the fact that she was standing on a dead body, Hermione laughed. Draco Malfoy certainly didn't seem like the type to scream like a girl at the sight of a little - make that a lot - of blood.  
  
"Stuff it, Granger. Is he.?"  
  
"Looks like it. I haven't checked his pulse, though." She toed the man cautiously, flipping his arm into view. It appeared to have been chewed on. "I certainly hope he's not alive, because it looks like he's been used as a doggie treat."  
  
"Let's get the hell out of here."  
  
"Not until we've looked around! There has to be a gun somewhere in this place. I'm going to get one, even if I have to take it off of this guy."  
  
"Be my guest. I'm searching drawers." He walked back to the first desk. "Granger?" he called, after a minute, "Do you know how to shoot a gun?"  
  
She answered honestly. "No, I don't. But when I was younger, I had cousins who loved to play video games. You know, the testosterone packed kind with the fake guns, where you shoot everything that moves?"  
  
He looked at her blankly.  
  
"Really, you should have taken Muggle Studies, Draco. Anyway, I've shot one of those. It can't be that much different, can it?"  
  
Draco didn't look impressed, and Hermione didn't blame him, as she hadn't even convinced herself. She was just going to have to learn to shoot a gun, because she needed to, and Draco was going to learn, too.  
  
  
  
"Hey! I found something! Come here, Hermione."  
  
"Just a minute! I'm still looking for a gun." She looked on the desk, and in its drawers, ignoring Draco's repeated calls for her. Finally, she noticed something on the far corner of the desk. It was not, however, a gun.  
  
Under a small note reading, "Convenient Plot Device" lay a small box of bullets. Next to it was a book, stained with something that looked a lot like blood. Hermione picked them both up, and went over to Draco.  
  
He was waving a gun in the air, looking like a child who'd just discovered his Christmas stocking. "I've got a gun!"  
  
"I've found some bullets. I don't think there's anything else in here. We'll have to look other places, if we want another gun. She thought a moment. .Or, I could just replicate it!" With a swish of Hermione's wand, the one gun became two.  
  
She picked one up, liking the feel of the cold metal against her hand. Draco took the other. They opened the bullets, and fumbled for a few minutes before they eventually figured out how to load the guns.  
  
Hermione tucked the book under her arm, wanting to keep it near. She had a feeling it held information that would be of value to them at some point.  
  
"We should try these out before we go anywhere else," she told Draco.  
  
He nodded.  
  
The practiced for what seemed like half an hour. When they were done, Hermione was quite positive they were the only living creatures in the building. They would have attracted the attention of anything with ears, if they weren't.  
  
They'd riddled the wall with holes, and Hermione's arm ached, but she thought they'd gotten at least marginally better at aiming their weapons. She felt confident that she'd be able to hit a zombie, even if it took six tries.  
  
"Are you ready?" Draco asked.  
  
"As I'll ever be," she answered. "Let's get out of here." 


	3. Close Call

"Whoa! You were almost a Jillbo sandwich!" - Barry, Resident Evil  
  
*  
  
Hermione took a step towards the door. She was surprised at how difficult it was to move. The confusion faded in a split second, and was replaced with terror when she realized the reason for her difficulty.  
  
A zombie. There was a zombie holding her ankle. She yelped.  
  
Draco, who was already almost out the door, pivoted, and pointed his gun at Hermione's foot.  
  
"Don't!" she cried. She'd seen Draco shoot, and his aim was horrible. There was a good chance he'd hit her foot, and not the zombie if he shot.  
  
"Sorry, I didn't realize you two were friends."  
  
"Malfoy, you idiot, I'm closer to the zombie. I'll shoot it myself, thanks, since I'd rather leave this place with both my feet." She fumbled with the gun, her hand sweaty and shaking.  
  
Draco came closer to her. "That's the guy we saw when we first got in here.  
  
"Five points for Slytherin!" Hermione was still struggling with the gun, trying to aim at the zombie's head. She was startled when she heard a shot.  
  
Draco had shot the thing in the back, and it twitched, letting go of Hermione's ankle. While she backed away and sat down on the floor, Draco emptied his gun into the zombie until it stopped moving.  
  
She peeled her sock away from her ankle. Already, there were dark red marks circling her flesh, like a twisted bracelet. She touched one and flinched.  
  
"That was close," said Draco, who'd come to sit down beside her. "I think, from now on, we should just shoot any body we come across."  
  
"We should make sure they're dead before we shoot." Hermione said calmly, still tenderly fingering her ankle.  
  
"Fine. Are you ready to go, or are you going to sit there and lick your wounds for an hour while the rest of the zombies in the building attack us?"  
  
"I'm so sorry. Next time I won't check to see if my ankle's sprained."  
  
"It's not even bruised. Get up."  
  
Draco offered a hand, but Hermione ignored it, and pushed herself up. The book she'd been holding under her arm had fallen when she'd been grabbed, and she went to pick it up.  
  
It was open, and she could see two words scrawled across the page: "Itchy. Tasty."  
  
She pulled a face. "I really don't want to know what that's all about. The book can stay."  
  
"Hermione Granger, willingly leaving a book behind? What has the world come to? Next thing I know, you'll be telling me you're in love with Snape, and cheated in Transfiguration."  
  
She winked at him. "I have layers."  
  
His mouth dropped open, and she laughed. He glared, and walked to the door. She followed.  
  
"I'm really ready now," she said. "No false starts. Shall we check out the rest of this floor before going back down? There might be something else to help us."  
  
"I'd rather just get out of here, actually. I don't think we're going to find anything other than zombies."  
  
"We found guns in here."  
  
"Right, which means we don't need to find any more guns."  
  
"But," Hermione countered, "We do need more bullets. We've used most of the box we found already. I tried replicating them, but it didn't work. Whenever I tried, the box would flash "Convenient Plot Device" and snap closed. It was irritating."  
  
"All right, we search the building." Draco gave her a nasty look. "Do you have to be right about everything?"  
  
"Yes. Second floor first?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
Draco took the lead once again. Hermione walked behind him, gun held in both hands. She imitated a style she'd seen long ago on an old American television show. Something about angels.  
  
The hallway was still dark. Draco had cast Lumos, but Hermione's own wand was tucked away. She rather liked the two-handed gun hold. It gave her more control, and anything that would improve her aim was definitely a good thing.  
  
Draco rounded a corner in front of her, and called for her. "Hermione, there's another body."  
  
He was standing away from it, staring down suspiciously. "How do we tell if it's dead or not? I don't want to touch it."  
  
"Are all Slytherins such sissies?" Hermione stepped in front of Draco and kicked the body softly, quickly jumping back.  
  
"Gryffindors are handy to have around," he drawled.  
  
The body didn't move. Hermione knelt down to feel for a pulse. There was none.  
  
"Shoot it," she told Draco. A beat. "But wait until I've moved."  
  
She stepped back, and he shot, hitting its head on the first try.  
  
"You've gotten better, Malfoy. If only you showed such promise in Charms." Hermione turned her face from the splattered zombie.  
  
"I'm not in danger of being murdered by Flitwick if I don't learn charms now, am I?"  
  
"You never know. I wouldn't underestimate him." She looked at him. "Is there anything else in this hallway?"  
  
"I haven't seen anything, but the light from my wand isn't that strong. I haven't heard any zombies coming, at least."  
  
She nodded. "Good. I think we're running out of bullets, and I don't want to be running on empty if we should happen upon any moving zombies."  
  
"How did they get this way, anyway?" Draco asked.  
  
"The zombies? I don't know."  
  
"You're not serious. You were a walking encyclopedia downstairs. 'Don't be silly, Draco, zombies don't eat people, they just like to play with them!' 'Wands can't kill zombies, Draco.'" He spoke in a whiny falsetto that was especially insulting.  
  
"I do know about zombies. But there are different kinds. They're not all alike. Some are people who've been brought back from the dead intentionally. Though I don't think that's what these are. That kind is usually a bit more intelligent. They walk more like people. They've just got crumbling flesh."  
  
"Delightful, I'm sure. But you said those aren't the ones we're dealing with. Move on."  
  
"Right, sorry. It's possible that it's a virus that feeds on flesh, slowly killing cells, and then reanimating them. That's very rare, and has only happened in Muggle communities where experiments in chemistry went horribly wrong. The Ministry's had to clean them up. I've only heard of one incident in the past century, though." Hermione trailed off, getting lost in a sea of thought.  
  
Draco's hand on her shoulder brought her back, and she blushed. "Sorry."  
  
He coughed. "So it's a virus."  
  
"It might be. I can't tell for sure."  
  
"How can we be sure that we don't catch it ourselves, then?"  
  
Hermione looked aghast. "I hadn't even thought of that. I have no idea." She slowly backed further away form the dead body. "I think that. not touching the zombies would be a good place to start."  
  
Draco laughed.  
  
"It's not funny!"  
  
He stopped for a moment, and looked at Hermione gravely. Then he again burst into laughter.  
  
Hermione gritted her teeth. "I'm glad you find this so amusing, Malfoy. I'm sure I'd be laughing just as hard if the zombie had touched your ankle."  
  
"No, it's not that. The look on your face!" His voice was smothered by giggles.  
  
"You know, you're in serious jeopardy of ruining your reputation as a tough guy if you keep giggling like a girl."  
  
That shut him up. She smiled, baring her teeth. He scowled.  
  
"That's more like it!" she said.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Gladly."  
  
Hermione was ahead of him in the hallway, now. She held her wand, and cast Lumos. She was glad to see that hers was a great deal brighter than Draco's. She looked back at him, hoping to hit him with a smug look of magical superiority, but his eyes were fixed on a point some distance ahead of where she stood.  
  
"What?" she asked him.  
  
"There's another door. Up there." He pointed.  
  
Indeed there was. "Good eye, Malfoy." Hermione smiled at him.  
  
They started walking towards the door. "Wait," Draco said. "Do you hear something?"  
  
Hermione stopped. She did hear something, though it didn't sound like a dog, and it certainly wasn't a zombie. More of a skittering, like a crab, trying to find purchase. A really big crab.  
  
"Yes," she said. "And it sounds like it's coming from the ceiling." 


	4. Blood, Death, Destruction

"Barry. Where's Barry." - Chris, Resident Evil  
  
*  
  
Hermione and Draco exchanged twin looks of dread. "Whatever that sound is, it's definitely coming form the ceiling," Hermione said.  
  
Draco nodded. "That makes sense, since we can see the floor, and it's not coming from there."  
  
"We should probably look up."  
  
"Probably."  
  
They didn't move.  
  
"Draco," Hermione hissed, "Look on the ceiling."  
  
"Not unless you do."  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake, this is ludicrous." Hermione glanced up, and just as quickly, her head shot down again. She swallowed.  
  
"Well?" Draco asked expectantly.  
  
"There's something up there."  
  
"I deducted that. What is it?"  
  
"I have no idea. I've never seen anything like it. It's. just look yourself, Malfoy." Hermione shuddered.  
  
Draco looked at her suspiciously. "Fine," he said, and looked at the ceiling. A pause, and then: "Fuck!"  
  
"You could put it that way, I suppose." Hermione was backing up, eyes trained on the ceiling.  
  
The creature that was crawling towards them wasn't recognizably, human, though it did have a vague humanoid shape. It was horrible, red and veiny. Its tongue was lashing out at them, and Hermione barely missed being hit.  
  
She ran to the opposite end of the hall, not bothering to see if Draco was following her. She reached a dead end, and backed against the wall. It wasn't the smartest of plans; she was now cornered.  
  
"Hermione!" yelled Draco, and she looked up to see that the. thing had followed her.  
  
She raised her gun and shot it, hitting its head. It kept coming. She shot again, this time missing the head, but hitting it square in the chest. The creature slowed a little, but still advanced, its unnaturally long tongue snaking menacingly towards Hermione.  
  
From behind her, she could hear Draco shooting. Whether or not he was hitting the. licker, she couldn't tell. It would move several paces closer to her, turn its head and lick, pause, and then repeat the movements.  
  
"Draco!" she cried, "Are there any more of those things in here?"  
  
"I only see the one. I think it's more than enough."  
  
Hermione dropped her gun. Obviously, it wasn't going to do much good, and she didn't have time to reload, much less the bullets. Wand in hand, she cast "Stupefy!" on the licker, but again, got no result.  
  
"Petrificus Totallus!"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Avada Kadavra!"  
  
"Hey!" That was Draco. "What where you're pointing the unforgiveables!"  
  
"Sorry!" she choked. "I'm getting desperate!"  
  
The licker was practically upon her now, and Hermione's wand hand was shaking too much to be of use in casting any spell, much less the one she'd been casting. Her state of mind was too jumbled as well, magic never worked as well if the caster wasn't sure of herself. Hermione's usual confidence was one of her greatest assets, but that, along with most of her courage seemed to have fled when she first set eyes on the thing which was now dripping some kind of fluid on her shoes.  
  
Draco took another shot at the licker, hitting it.  
  
Unfortunately, this had the effect of causing the thing to fall from the ceiling and onto Hermione.  
  
She screamed, jabbing her wand in its belly.  
  
It retaliated by lashing its tongue at her, leaving a nasty, gaping wound on her arm.  
  
"Draco! Shoot it again!"  
  
"I'm trying! I think I'm out of bullets!" He waved the gun in the air, as if demonstrating its uselessness.  
  
Hermione braced herself against the wall with her arms, and, in a move that was perhaps unwise, jumped and kicked the thing with both feet.  
  
She landed hard on the ground - seems to becoming a habit, she thought hysterically - one leg atop the other. The licker didn't appear to have been harmed, but she'd at least stunned the thing, and thrown it back several feet, in addition.  
  
It hissed at her, clearly intent on payback.  
  
Not very enthusiastic at the prospect of hand to hand combat with something that was more likely to use its tongue than actual hands, Hermione struggled to right herself, trying very much not to notice the pain in her bum where she'd fallen, or the sting of the gash on her arm.  
  
Draco had given up on the gun, and was now casting different curses, none of which seemed to be taking.  
  
"It's not going to work, Draco! Try something else." Hermione kicked the thing again, this time hitting its head. It hissed in pain, and shot its tongue at her.  
  
She sidestepped, narrowly missing a gash on her leg to match the one on her arm. When she'd found her balance again, Hermione jabbed the licker, using her wand as a dagger. Unfortunately, the wand was much more useful a wand than a combat weapon, and bounced off the creature's tough flesh. Though she hesitated in calling it flesh.  
  
With her wand gone, Hermione was not helpless, save her kicks, which seemed to be of no use. She'd managed to duck the licker's tongue twice, but it had gotten her again, this time stinging her side.  
  
She was convinced she was going to die. Where Draco had gone, she had no idea.  
  
Screwing her eyes shut, and working up one last bit of courage, Hermione again kicked at the licker, only to have her foot meet thin air. Confused, the changed directions and kicked again, but again came up empty.  
  
She opened her eyes.  
  
Draco was standing behind the licker, hands wrapped around its neck. There was blood on his cheek; he must have been hit.  
  
As Hermione watched, Draco's muscles contracted, and he twisted the thing's neck. He dropped it to the floor, lifeless.  
  
She blinked at him. "How did you. That was very. My god, Malfoy, you should be dead now."  
  
"You're welcome," he said.  
  
"I'm sorry. Thank you." She sagged to the floor. "Come here, let me see your face."  
  
"It's nothing," he said, but moved to sit beside her anyway.  
  
"Turn your face," she commanded.  
  
He'd been telling the truth; the cut was relatively benign. There was a fair amount of blood, but it seemed to already be clotting. It wasn't a deep cut. She traced the edges gently with her fingertip, realizing that Draco had very nice skin.  
  
Stop it! she commanded herself. Noticing Draco's skin is not something you should be doing now. Survival is much more important than soft cheeks.  
  
But oh, they were nice.  
  
Then he had to ruin the moment by talking.  
  
"Granger," he said roughly, "If you're done fondling me now, I think I should take a look at your arm."  
  
Hermione drew her hand back, and pushed her sleeve up her arm, trying not to look at Draco as she felt her cheeks grow hot.  
  
"I don't think it's very deep. At least, I won't bleed to death."  
  
He took her arm in his hands, and she was very grateful that he made to reference to her blush.  
  
"You're still bleeding."  
  
"Well, yes, I guess I am." Hermione looked at her arm. It wasn't gushing blood, by any stretch of the imagination, but it did sting, and was still bleeding, a little.  
  
"Close your eyes," said Draco.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just do it."  
  
For some unknown reason, she listened to him. He said something then, under his breath, and she couldn't hear it. It must have been a spell, though, because as soon as the words drifted from her ears, she felt a tingling in her arm.  
  
When she opened her eyes, the wound had closed.  
  
"How did you do that?" she asked, genuinely intrigued.  
  
He grinned cockily. "That," he said, "is a secret."  
  
"No really, I want to know. Tell me."  
  
"Are you always like this? It's amazing you have any friends, even if they're Potter and Weasley."  
  
"Don't change the subject. I want to know what spell you used on me." Hermione rubbed her arm, feeling the newly healed tissue under the blood.  
  
Draco shrugged. "It's just something I picked up."  
  
"Where?" she demanded.  
  
He gave her look of absolute exasperation. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."  
  
Her eyes got big. "Is that. was that Dark Magic? Draco, I don't know if."  
  
He cut her off by placing his fingers over her lips. She wouldn't have been more surprised if he'd kissed her. And then, he was kissing her.  
  
Gently, he moved his lips over hers, barely moving them, breathing into her shocked and open mouth. When had his hand tangled itself in her hair? When had her eyes closed? When had she stopped breathing?  
  
He was speaking against her mouth, but giving no voice to the words. Perhaps he was telling her the secret of the spell he'd just cast, or maybe she was still under its influence. In any case, it didn't matter. She liked the feel of his flesh on hers. She began to kiss him back.  
  
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. He pulled back, leaving her wide-eyed and speechless.  
  
"What," she said when she'd regained higher brain functions, "Was that for?" 


	5. Sweet Madness

"STOP! Don't open. that door!" - Wesker, Resident Evil  
  
*  
  
Draco only smiled, and stood up, offering her his hand.  
  
"Draco!" Hermione threatened, "What was that for?"  
  
"For luck," he said, "For laughs. For the unknown."  
  
Hermione blinked. "I know that line. Don't tell me you've read Peter S. Beagle. He's a Muggle!"  
  
"I thought that you, of all people would know better than that. Beagle may have been a Muggle, but the story's true enough."  
  
"Are you serious?" Hermione was incredulous.  
  
"Completely." He winked.  
  
"Who are you?" she demanded, "and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"Get up," he said, "Unless you'd like to stay here and wait for" he nodded towards the licker "more of those things."  
  
"That's better. Much more in character."  
  
"That hurts, Granger. You're breaking my heart."  
  
"You'll survive." Hermione stood up, surprised to find that, though she was shaky, her legs didn't give out under her weight. She took an unsteady step, bracing herself on the wall.  
  
Draco said nothing, but gave her a look that clearly told her he thought her weak.  
  
She told herself it was the tingling in her arm that made her feel so lightheaded. It had absolutely nothing to do with the kiss, though she could still feel the heat of his lips on her mouth. At the thought, she looked at his mouth, then quickly away when he caught her.  
  
I must have caught the zombie virus, Hermione thought. What other explanation is there for me swooning over Malfoy? She put a hand to her head, checking for signs of fever.  
  
"Don't worry," said Draco, "I'm sure you're fine. I've yet to kill anyone with a kiss."  
  
Hermione glared at him, hoping to god that he didn't know that her immediate reaction was to ask him to try again.  
  
Like I don't have bigger things to worry about, she scolded herself.  
  
She walked past the corpse of the licker, trying not to breathe - the thing seemed to be giving off an odor that was worse than it had been when it was alive. There was also a pile of goo surrounding it. Hermione gagged, praying she wouldn't throw up. Wouldn't that just be something for Malfoy to pester her about?  
  
"What the hell was that, anyway?" asked Draco, conversationally.  
  
"Didn't I already tell you I don't know? I certainly haven't had time to read about it since the last time you asked." She thought a moment. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's some sort of mutant variation on the zombies."  
  
"Zombies can mutate? That's perverse."  
  
"Everything about this situation is perverse. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was imagining the whole thing." Hermione pinched herself as she said that, making sure her assumption was right.  
  
"You're insane, Granger. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."  
  
"Coming from you, Malfoy, that's almost a compliment."  
  
They'd made it halfway down the hall as they were arguing, and again they stood in front of the door they'd meant to open before they were so rudely interrupted by the licker. Hermione hesitated, looking to Draco.  
  
"I'm not going in first. I'm through with the chivalry. You're standing there; you open the door. You're the Gryffindor." He crossed his arms, and shot her a challenging look.  
  
"Are you implying that I'm a coward?"  
  
He thought a moment. "Yes," he said, "I think I am."  
  
"Why, you."  
  
"After all," he pointed out logically, "Who was the one who killed the licker?"  
  
"That hasn't anything to do with courage! I might have gotten it myself if you hadn't stepped in with your action-hero swagger! You're a pig, Malfoy."  
  
"Better than being a ferret," he replied, his face showing no response to the rest of her retort.  
  
Hermione laughed. "Who knew you had a sense of humor?"  
  
"I did. Are you going to stand her chattering, or are you going to open that bloody door?"  
  
Instead of answering him, she placed her ear to the door, trying to hear any indication of dogs beyond the hallway. It was silent. She opened the door a crack. When no large black animal lunged for her throat, Hermione felt safe in opening the door the rest of the way.  
  
The room was smaller than the other, with just a single desk in the back, near a window. Hermione walked in.  
  
From the doorway, Draco called, "Is it safe?"  
  
"No," Hermione said, "I'm a zombie now, don't come in or I'll eat you."  
  
"I'm not sure I'd mind that," he drawled, and before she could tell him she hadn't meant it that way, followed up with, "Didn't you say zombies don't eat people?"  
  
"Your listening skills must have improved. Yes, I did say that. Anyway, come in, it seems to be empty. I don't even see a body."  
  
"It's our lucky day. Do you see anything useful? Bullets, maybe?" He'd entered the room, and was peering out the window.  
  
"I haven't had the chance to look yet. I was more concerned with the absence of anything that would kill us than the presence of ammunition. Can you see anything out there?" She'd started rummaging through the desk.  
  
"No, it's too dark. And actually, I'm not sure I'd want to see what's out there. If this one building's filled with zombies, dogs and. whatever that other thing was, I'm fairly certain I don't want to know what else is in this city."  
  
"What makes you sure it's the whole city?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Did you see anyone else when we got here?"  
  
"No, but we hardly had the chance to look around now, did we?"  
  
"And whose fault was that? If I recall correctly, someone insisted we get out of the rain," he reminded her. He'd turned around and was half sitting on the window ledge. The blood on his cheek had dried to a dirty brown, his hair was mussed and sticking up above his ears, and damn, if his eyes weren't the loveliest shade of.  
  
Stop it, Hermione! I must be going mad, she decided.  
  
"Sorry." She went back to searching the desk. She could hear him tapping his foot, then the distinct sound of cracking knuckles.  
  
The bastard, she thought, he's got the nerve to be impatient.  
  
Then, triumphantly, she cried, "I've found bullets!"  
  
He walked over and stood behind her. Hermione wondered if he was standing so close on purpose, to unnerve her. If he was, or if he wasn't, it was having the same effect, and her heart thumped crazily.  
  
"Let's see," he said, bending his head over her shoulder.  
  
Hermione tried to edge away, but found he was blocked her. If she took a step back, she'd simply come into contact with his chest. He'd splayed his hands one on either side of her on the desk, neatly trapping her.  
  
"Here," she said, stupidly tapping the box of bullets. Surely he could see them without her pointing them out.  
  
Draco leaned in closer. There was no way he wasn't purposely doing this. Hermione turned around, and placed her palms to his chest, intent on pushing him halfway across the room. Or perhaps through the wall.  
  
Or maybe against the wall, the part of her brain run by hormones shouted. The hesitation was enough for Draco to react, and he caught her wrists in his hands. "Are you going to push me down and steal my lunch, Granger?"  
  
"I don't think so," she said.  
  
"Oh?" he narrowed his eyes, and smiled.  
  
"No," Hermione said, and twisted her hands, grabbing his wrists. She pushed him backwards.  
  
Draco wasn't expecting it, and faltered. While he was trying to stay on his feet, she pounced, freeing her hands from his, and taking his mouth in a hungry kiss.  
  
She'd surprised him, she could tell. His mouth had been open (probably to throw some disparaging remark her way) and his hands stopped their descent towards her shoulders, instead tangling themselves in her hair.  
  
Hermione's own arms wrapped tightly around his back, kneading the muscles. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and traced his teeth. He sighed into her mouth, letting her lead the way.  
  
She was high on power, dizzy with it. Or maybe she was just dizzy because all of the blood in her body seemed to be rushing at high speeds away from her brain. She was driven by pure instinct. She drew back slightly from the kiss, and lightly bit his bottom lip. He shuddered in her arms.  
  
"Hermione," he said, or at least that's what she thought he'd said. She couldn't be sure, as he was speaking with his bottom lip between her teeth.  
  
Instead of letting him go, she just kissed him again, and then he was kissing her back, and his hands hand traveled from her hair to the small of her back where they were. ooh, whatever they were doing was simply delicious and she pressed harder on his back with her own hands and.  
  
What was that noise? Something in the back of Hermione's mind - probably a survival instinct - was telling her that something was very, very wrong.  
  
"Mmmpf," she said against Draco's mouth.  
  
A split second later, something hit the back of her head. 


	6. The Birds

"Still in one piece!" - Claire, Resident Evil II  
  
*  
  
Shocked, Hermione bit down, though it was Draco's lip her teeth made contact with, and not her own. He yelped and jumped back, and Hermione tired to disentangle herself from the embrace.  
  
Whatever had hit her wasn't letting up; it felt like her hair was being pulled from her skull at high speed. She brought her hands up to her head to fend off her attacker, and was rewarded with a sharp peck on the back of her hand. It was a bird.  
  
Hermione shrieked, and batted at the thing again, this time succeeding in driving it away. She looked up to see Draco was having the same problem.  
  
The room was quickly filling with large, black birds.  
  
They'd apparently come in the window, which was broken. Shards of glass littered the floor. Why didn't I hear that happening? Hermione wonder.  
  
She looked at Draco, whose bottom lip was puffy, and remembered exactly why she hadn't heard. If she got out of this alive, she was never, never going to tell anyone that Draco Malfoy kissed better than anyone she'd ever kissed before. She doubted Malfoy would be posting the bans, though, so she really had nothing to worry about.  
  
Except the birds.  
  
Hermione remembered, when she was younger, sneaking out of her bedroom late at night, and seeing an old black and white movie on television. It featured birds, attacking people, plucking out their eyes; killing them. It had given her nightmares for weeks. She was certain these birds were capable of that, and possibly more. They could very well be zombie birds, after all.  
  
Or they could have rabies.  
  
"Hermione!" She shook her head, and looked to Draco, who was frantically calling her name.  
  
Somehow, in their mad dash away from the birds, they'd managed to become separated to opposite sides of the room. She could barely see him through the feathers and flashing beaks. "What?"  
  
"Birds!" he said.  
  
"I've noticed!" She waved her hand in the air, frantically trying to clear her line of vision.  
  
Stupidly, she'd left both her wand and her gun on the desk before she'd pulled Draco into the world's worst timed snogging session. Now she's managed to hop and dance herself out to the window, which really wasn't a good thing, as more birds seemed to be flying in by the minute. It was like one of those clown cars at the circle, only they weren't getting out of the room, but coming in.  
  
A bird cawed triumphantly, and flew away with a chunk of Hermione's hair. She let out an ear-splitting scream that seemed to momentarily stun the birds, and made a dash to Draco's side.  
  
"Hi," she said. "Do you have any idea how to deal with these things?"  
  
"I was thinking we should kill them."  
  
"Good plan. I'll help."  
  
"It's reassuring to know I'm not in this by myself." He swatted a bird away from his nose, while another pecked at his sleeve.  
  
Hermione had a sudden vision of Draco being lifted into the air by a swarm of angry zombie birds, and burst into laughter. Draco didn't seem to appreciate the humor, and yelled, rather hysterically, "This isn't funny!"  
  
He only succeeded in making Hermione laugh harder, as he looked like an animated scarecrow, dancing about the room in a mad jig. She bit her cheeks to stop the giggles. "Right, sorry. So, we kill them. How?"  
  
"Maybe you could bray like a donkey some more, and their heads will explode." He was very cross with her.  
  
"I said I was sorry. Really, this isn't the time to trade petty insults. We need to - ow!" A particularly large bird landed on Hermione shoulder and bit her ear, drawing blood.  
  
Draco laughed.  
  
Hermione made a mad dash in what she hoped was the direction of the desk. When her thighs collided with a solid object, she knew she's made it. She looked around for her gun. It wasn't there.  
  
"Draco!" she yelled, "Did you take my gun?"  
  
"No. I don't even have mine. My hands were slightly occupied before feathered friends decided to drop in for tea."  
  
She blushed, and dropped to her knees, hoping the gun had fallen to the floor and she hadn't noticed.  
  
The floor was littered with black feathers and - ew! - was that bird droppings? Hermione made a mental note to not be disgusted and instead to concentrate on finding her weapon. She shifted her head an inch, and found herself looking directly into the cold black eyes of one of the birds.  
  
It was holding her gun in with its feet.  
  
"Why you little thief!" she cried, and lunged for the bird.  
  
Too quick by a fraction, the bird took off, and left Hermione holding thin air.  
  
She sighed, and squirmed under the desk, hoping that if she didn't find her gun, she'd at least be slightly protected from the mad swoops and dashes of the birds. She swore one of them had just bit her bum, and was none too pleased about it.  
  
"Hermione!" yelled Draco, "Would you quit playing hide and seek and do something useful like kill some of these things?"  
  
"If I could find my gun, I would." She thought a second. "Why can't you kill any of them?"  
  
"I did!" he said with a touch of pride in his voice, "I've been throwing glass at them. They seem to die if they're beheaded."  
  
"Lovely."  
  
"It's better than whatever you're doing over there."  
  
"I'm trying! I'm not very well going to bite their heads off, and at the moment, that seems to be my only choice, as I can't find my bloody wand, and a bird has stolen my gun." From under the desk, she could see only one side of the room, and it wasn't the side Draco was occupying. Her view consisted most of birds. And more birds.  
  
"You're kidding. If the bites weren't bad enough, they're going to start shooting at us, now?"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure they will. One bird will hold the gun in its little feet, and another will pull the trigger with its beak." She groped around the floor, hoping to find some sort of a weapon beneath the pile of feathers. Really, most of those birds had to be bald by now at the rate they were molting.  
  
Then Draco was in front of her, pushing his way into the small space Hermione occupied under the desk. She moved over, but it was still a tight fit, and her knees were scraping her chin, and one of her elbows was twisted behind her back  
  
"I didn't ask for your company."  
  
"I know. But I'm tired of being used as a bird feeder. I think I've lost half the skin on my arms, and this shirt is a bloody dishrag now." He pointed, indicating the tears and chunks of missing fabric.  
  
"How many did you kill?"  
  
"Maybe four, maybe five. I don't think any more are coming in, if that matters any." He wiped his forehead, smearing sweat and blood over his eyebrows. "I thought you might want this." He held up her wand.  
  
"Draco! Where did you find that? I could kiss you." Hermione yanked the wand away from him.  
  
"Not now, please. Your kisses tend to happen before disasters."  
  
Hermione threw him an evil look, and pushed her way out of the small space. As she wiggled, she felt his hand on her upper thigh. She froze for a moment, and then made herself ignore him and continue.  
  
As she stood up, she heard him say, from under the desk, "You know, Granger, for someone who spends all her time in the library, you really have a nice set of legs."  
  
"You've got a decent mind for someone who spends all his time with walking amoebas."  
  
Hermione surveyed the room. Draco was right; there didn't seem to be any more birds coming in the window. The ones already in the room must have been losing some of their energy as well. The frantic flapping of their wings had slowed, and Hermione was actually able to see across the room thought the mass of birds.  
  
Mentally tallying the number of birds, Hermione began her assault. Whenever a bird would come close to her, she would quickly transfigure it into a bullet. Soon, there were only three birds left in the room, and Hermione had a large pile of bullets sitting on the desk in front of her.  
  
"What are you doing?" came Draco's muted voice.  
  
"I'm teaching them parlor tricks." The last bird fell to the desk with a clank.  
  
Hermione ducked her head under the desk. "All done."  
  
Draco turned around and pulled himself halfway out from the beneath the desk, resting his head and hands on the surface. "Nice work, Hermione."  
  
"Bit less messy than beheading, though," she admitted.  
  
"More useful, though."  
  
"Is that a compliment, Malfoy?"  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it. Help me up?" He held out his hand, and she helped pull him the rest of the way out from under the desk, noticing that he'd taken off the tattered shirt. Bare chested and bloodied, he looked somewhat like Rambo, or perhaps the man from Die Hard.  
  
Hermione spotted her gun across the room, where the bird had apparently dropped it. As she made her way over, she stepped on another gun, and picked it up. "Draco," she asked, "Where's your wand?"  
  
"I don't know," he said. "The last time I remember having it was when I was looking out the window. Before you k -"  
  
Hermione cut him off before he could finish. "You mean, when you were standing by that window?" She gestured towards the empty pane, which now held only a shard of broken glass.  
  
He nodded, and she walked over to the window. "Lumos," she whispered to her own wand, looking out into the night.  
  
Draco walked over to her, curious. "Is there anything down there?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, "Your wand." 


	7. The Last Rung of the Ladder

"Everyone's gonna diieeee!" - Police Chief Irons, Resident Evil II  
  
*  
  
Draco pushed Hermione aside, craning his neck out the window. "My wand's down there?"  
  
"There." Hermione pointed. "It's just beside that crate. See?"  
  
He leaned further out the window, and she wrapped an arm around his chest, to prevent him from falling. "Watch yourself, Draco. I really don't need you falling and breakings something now, and you should probably pay attention to the fact that there's a large shard of glass inches from your head."  
  
Draco drew back, swatting at her hand. "I need my wand."  
  
"Move aside." She pushed him, trying not to concentrate on the way her hands slid across the smooth skin of his chest. Leaning out the window herself, she waved her wand and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
She tried again. Still nothing. "What the hell?" She examined her wand. It seemed to be intact, and it had worked fine for the transfiguration.  
  
"What's that?" Draco was leaning out the window again, pointing to the sky.  
  
"What?"  
  
"That." He took her hand in his own, and moved it, until she was pointing to the same spot he was.  
  
Following the line of her hand against the sky, Hermione looked up and saw the strangest cloud formation she'd ever seen. "It says, 'Convenient Plot Device.'"  
  
"I'm really beginning to dislike this place," Draco said.  
  
"Honestly? I was thinking maybe I'd transfer from Hogwarts to here."  
  
"Ha ha." Draco hung out of the window, reaching his hand down towards his wand.  
  
"You're going to kill yourself if you keep doing that. You'll crack your skull if you fall." She put her hands on his shoulders, hoping to anchor him to the floor.  
  
"I need my wand," he repeated, turning around and fixing her with a look of stone.  
  
"I realize that, but it doesn't mean you've got to hurt yourself getting it. Let me think for a minute, I'll figure it out."  
  
"Because I'd never be able to think of a solution myself."  
  
"I didn't say that. But if you're going to take that attitude about it, I won't help you," she huffed.  
  
They glared at each other for several seconds, neither wanting to lose ground by admitting to the possibility of being wrong. Hermione was the first to look away, and she was sure Draco took that as a sign of her backing down. She didn't care. She thought if she looked at him much longer, she'd get so mad she'd do something really stupid.  
  
Like kiss him again.  
  
Instead, she stared at the ground by his feet. He leaned out the window again, and she kept her mouth shut, silently hoping he would injure himself in some way. It would serve him right.  
  
He pulled himself back in, and though she wasn't making eye contact, Hermione could tell he was looking at her. She ignored the sensation of his stare on her face, and kicked a pile of feathers into the air.  
  
"Hermione, could you lower me down there? I think, if you can hold me, I'll be able to get onto that crate, and then I can reach my wand."  
  
She gaped at him. "Probably not, since you probably outweigh me by half." Muscle weighs more than fat, she added silently. "I'd probably drop you. Nice try, though."  
  
"Fine, I'm just going to drop out of the window myself. It's not that far down, especially if I land on the crate."  
  
"Draco, don't." Hermione said seriously. "Do you think anything in this place is going to be easy? You'll probably drop through the crate into a sewer full of alligators, and then I'll have to go in with you, and while it's quite easy for you to take off your shirt, I don't know what I'd do if mine got soaked with sewer sludge. So just wait."  
  
"I don't know," said Draco, "I think you'd look nice without your shirt."  
  
"Are you mad?" she asked. "One second you're insulting me, and the next you're thinking about what's under my blouse? What's wrong with you, Malfoy?"  
  
"Hermione, I'm a teenaged male. Surely you've read something about raging hormones." He leered at her comically. "Now let's see what's under that blouse."  
  
Draco lunged at her, but instead of trying to pry her shirt over her head, he tickled her midsection, catching her completely off guard.  
  
"Oh, that's evil," she gasped between bouts of giggles. "You fight dirty, Malfoy."  
  
"Well, remember how quickly the Sorting Hat decided on Slytherin." he said, as he traced a feather across her stomach. When had he picked that up?  
  
Hermione struggled for breath. "Stop that, Draco. We're not going to get your wand this way."  
  
"Is that so? What about this way?"  
  
No, definitely not that way, Hermione thought, as she felt the feather float to the ground, skimming her side. Draco's hands were cradling her hips, and his lips were inches from - no, wait, make that millimeters - from her ear.  
  
"I don't think so," she choked out.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked, and then his tongue was tracing the lines of her ear.  
  
"I'm quite sure!" she gasped, as his hands slid slowly up her sides. "Draco! We've got a situation here. This isn't the time for."  
  
"For what, Hermione?" he bit her earlobe. "You had your fun earlier, I think I deserve a turn. Isn't that fair?"  
  
Hermione shuddered, and tried to concentrate on what she'd been about to say. It really wasn't time for. but oh, his hands were doing the most delicious things to her skin, and when had he managed to push her blouse up?  
  
Draco had moved his head, and now, instead of biting her ear, he was kissing her jaw line. Hermione brought her hands to his face, and held him still. "Draco, I really think we should try to get your wand back, now."  
  
"Okay," he said, and backed away.  
  
Hermione blinked. She hadn't expected that. Trying very much not to pout, she said, "Thanks."  
  
"My pleasure," said Draco, grinning.  
  
"I'm sure it was," Hermione laughed. Then she broke into a grin. "Draco, I've got it! We've just got to transfigure a ladder, and then you can climb down and get the wand. Brilliant!"  
  
"Looks like my method produced results, after all. Never doubt me again," he said, and planted a kiss on her nose. "What do you think we should transfigure?"  
  
Hermione looked around. "There." She pointed. "Let's use the desk chair."  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
Hermione walked to the chair, transfigured it, and brought it back to where Draco was standing. "Would you like to get your wand, or do you want to hold the ladder?" She lowered the ladder out the window, quite pleased with her work. It was exactly the right length.  
  
"I'll get the wand. It's mine, after all. You stay in here and hold the ladder." He sat on the windowsill, and swung one leg over the edge. "Ready?"  
  
"Yes," said Hermione, and held on to the ladder.  
  
When Draco was halfway down to the street below, Hermione heard a noise. "Draco!" she called down the ladder, "Did you heard that?"  
  
He looked up at her. "What? There's nothing down here."  
  
"Aaaaagh!" came the sound again.  
  
"That!" said Hermione, trying not to panic. "It's a zombie."  
  
"Well," said Draco, who had now reached the ground, "There's still nothing down here. It's got to be up there."  
  
"Oh god," said Hermione, and turned around, just in time to see a zombie crash through the door. "Accio gun!" she cried.  
  
Quickly taking aim, she pulled the trigger, only to find that she hadn't yet reloaded. "Shit!" she cried.  
  
"Hermione, what's going on?"  
  
"Zombie!"  
  
Not thinking, of anything except getting the hell out of the room with the zombie, Hermione swung her own legs over the windowsill, and climbed quickly and clumsily down the ladder, to where Draco had picked up his wand.  
  
"Hi," he said. "Getting some fresh air?"  
  
She pointed to the window, where the zombie stood. "Aaaagh," it said.  
  
"That's not good," said Draco.  
  
"No, I didn't think so, either. I haven't got any bullets. Do you?"  
  
"I put some of the ex-birds in my pocket, actually," he dug around, and handed her a bullet.  
  
"I'm not sure that's going to be enough." she trailed off, looking up at the zombie. "Draco," she said, "Does it look to you like that thing is taking our ladder?"  
  
As soon as she'd spoken, the ladder began to rise into the air.  
  
"The nerve!" said Hermione, and yanked back on the ladder.  
  
Zombies were strong, she'd give them that, Hermione thought, as the thing pulled back, and she flew backwards.  
  
"I didn't think they were smart enough to do that," mused Draco.  
  
"Neither did I," said Hermione.  
  
The zombie had now pulled the ladder all the way back into the room above them. Then, in a move that was possibly the most absurd Hermione had seen the whole day, waved down at them. When it opened its mouth to growl, it instead whispered, "Convenient Plot Device."  
  
Then it turned and walked away, leaving Hermione and Draco standing in the wet street. 


	8. Who's Gonna Drive You Home Tonight?

"Open! Drive!" - Willow, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer (NOT Resident Evil)  
  
*  
  
Hermione was sitting on the crate, her knees pulled up to her chin. It was still raining, though not very much. The crate was close enough to the building that it was sheltered for the most part from the rain. Still, she was sure that by the time the night was over, she'd have pneumonia, or at the very least, a hacking cough. If she didn't catch the zombie virus.  
  
Draco was standing on the crate behind Hermione, trying to find a way back into the room.  
  
Hermione though he was just wasting his time. Obviously the zombie didn't want them back in. Either it knew they'd kill it, or it wanted some private time to do whatever zombies did in their private time. She shuddered.  
  
"Are you quite done yet? I'm getting cold."  
  
"There's got to be some way back in. Try transfiguring the crate again."  
  
"I've tried six times, Draco. It doesn't work. Besides, you're standing on it now, and I definitely can't transfigure it with you there. Unless you fancy becoming a rung?" She swung her legs around the front of the crate and kicked, shaking the crate, herself and Draco.  
  
"Well, if you're not going to help me, the least you could do is bloody hold still, so you don't spill us onto the ground." He raised himself on tiptoes, and reached for the window, missing it by almost a foot. "Fuck!"  
  
"It's not going to work. We're going to have to go back in the front door." Hermione kicked the crate again, petulantly.  
  
Draco tripped, ramming into Hermione's back. He caught her shoulders to steady himself. "Let me stand on your shoulders."  
  
Hermione stood up then, and Draco stumbled again. "Are you out of our mind?"  
  
He shrugged. "It could work."  
  
"And then I would get in by sheer force of will?"  
  
"I could drop the ladder down."  
  
"Right. After you've wrestled it from the zombie. I don't know why I didn't think of that." Hermione glared at him, wishing she could pull the crate out from under him and watch him fall to the ground.  
  
"Granger, is it that time of the month? You're acting like Snape on a bad day."  
  
"That's it!" Hermione turned her back on Draco and stormed off down the street. "Have fun getting back in there!" she called over her shoulder.  
  
She didn't turn around, but heard him get down from the crate and walk towards her. "Fine, you're right, we can't get in that way. You don't have to throw a tantrum."  
  
Looking straight ahead, and not stopping, Hermione answered, "I'm not. I'm simply walking. Nice weather, isn't it?"  
  
In fact, she was getting colder by the minute. She wasn't sure if the rain had started to come down harder, or if the building had offered more shelter than she'd originally thought, but Hermione was now shivering, and she was willing to wager that her lips had taken on a blue tint. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.  
  
"Hermione, stop."  
  
She walked faster.  
  
"Stop now, or I'll hit you with a curse."  
  
She turned around. "That's low, Malfoy. Exactly what I'd expect of you." Hermione looked down at her shirt, and found it had taken on a very translucent appearance in its current wet state. She sighed.  
  
Draco crossed the distance between them. "I do what I have to. Where do you think you're going?"  
  
"I don't know. Somewhere that you're not."  
  
"That's a sound plan. Give my regards to the zombies."  
  
"And I'm sure you'd do so much better by yourself."  
  
"I don't think so, actually. That's why I made you stop." He grinned. The idiot.  
  
"Okay. Fine. I've stopped. You're never going to get back in that window, and you're bloody well not standing on my shoulders and my god, aren't you freezing?" She'd forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt. Though how she'd forgotten, she didn't know. She was glad he kept his chest covered most of the time. If he didn't, she'd be in danger of staring until her eyes got dry and rolled into her head.  
  
"A little. Not as bad as you, I think. Can we please go back to the building now?"  
  
Hermione sniffed. "Fine, if we use the door."  
  
"I give. We'll use the door. Come on." He held his hand, and she hesitated only a moment before taking it. They turned around.  
  
The street had filled with dogs.  
  
"Were those there before?" asked Hermione stupidly.  
  
"I certainly didn't notice them."  
  
There were at least five of them, though Hermione suspected there might be more. It was dark, and she couldn't see very well. "I think we should run," she said.  
  
"I think so, too."  
  
They took off down the street, hands still clasped. They didn't turn around, but Hermione could hear the snarls of the dogs, and she imagined their ugly black faces right at her heels. She had an awful vision of ending her life as a chew toy.  
  
Draco was running slightly faster, and he pulled her around a corner. "Do you see any place we could duck into?" he panted.  
  
"I haven't seen anything except blurs and rain." She turned her head, and saw dark buildings lining the street, none of which looked promising as a shelter.  
  
"Ouch!" Hermione hadn't been looking where she'd been going; Draco had been practically dragging her along at this point, and she'd been looking at the buildings. Now she's managed to run into something solid and metal.  
  
She looked down. It was a car.  
  
"Draco! Stop!" she called. "Alohomora!" she directed to the car's front door.  
  
Draco came to a halt, and turned around. "What is it, Hermione?" He saw the car. "Are you serious? We can't drive that thing."  
  
"It doesn't matter. Dogs won't be able to get in." She scrambled into the front seat. "Get it, for god's sake, before they catch up to us!"  
  
He climbed in and slammed the door, just before a dog caught up to them. It jumped at the door and banged its head against the window, leaving a smear of doggy drool. "That was close," said Draco.  
  
Hermione looked around the car. The steering wheel was on the left side. "We're definitely not in Britain anymore, Draco." She waved towards the wheel, upon which Draco was resting his arms.  
  
"Does it really matter where we are, Hermione? Wherever it is, it's not Hogwarts." He turned away from the window and faced her. "Now what?"  
  
"I think we should switch seats. My parents are Muggles, I've at least ridden in a car before."  
  
"Doesn't mean you know how to drive it."  
  
"No, but I at least know what to do with it. You wouldn't even know which pedal was which."  
  
"There are pedals?" He inspected the dash.  
  
"Move over." She inched towards him. "Climb over me."  
  
Draco started to move to the passenger seat, but his feet got tangled in the pedals and Hermione's feet, and he ended up falling into her lap, with an "oof."  
  
Hermione jumped. "What are you doing?" His face was resting on her thigh.  
  
"You really don't think I did think on purpose, do you?"  
  
"Given certain other events, I wouldn't rule it out. Move over." She kicked his foot.  
  
"Certain other events that you also participated in."  
  
"Move over, Malfoy."  
  
"You already said that."  
  
"Well, I meant it. Move over."  
  
Instead, he brought his hands closed to his face, and rubbed the material of her trousers lightly over her legs. "You're pretty when you're angry."  
  
"Oh god, Malfoy. Have you been reading Muggle romance novels? Really, that's the stupidest thing anyone's ever said to me. Get off, I want to see if I can get the car to work." She pushed him, succeeding only in moving him closer to the front of the car.  
  
"I'm moving. You don't have to get violent."  
  
"Seems it's the only thing you actually respond to. Light you wand."  
  
"Lumos."  
  
Hermione stared intently at the dashboard, trying to make sense of it. She'd seen her parents drive; she knew the basics. Stick key in, turn key. Press gas pedal. It seemed easy enough. She was sure she could drive, if she could figure out how to start the blasted thing.  
  
The wand light went out.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"You've seen everything. Besides you were looking out the window. .Are the dogs still there?"  
  
He was answered by loud barking.  
  
"Yes," said Hermione. "They're still there."  
  
Draco said nothing, and didn't light his wand again.  
  
Hermione watched the rain splatter on the windshield, and wished fervently that she knew how to apparate. Or that she had a key. Then it came to her. "Draco," she said, "Do you still have those bullets in your pocket?"  
  
"Yes," he said. "Are you going to shoot the dogs?"  
  
"No. Give me one."  
  
He handed her a bullet, giving her a questioning look.  
  
"I'm going to make a key," Hermione said, beaming. 


	9. Old Dogs, New Tricks

"You can find the others, if you are brave. They passed down all the roads long ago." - Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn. (ALSO not Resident Evil.)  
  
*  
  
It had taken a few tries before she got the key right. The first two didn't fit, and Hermione had finally realized that not only would she have to transfigure the key, but she'd also have to transfigure the keyhole to fit the key she'd be making. Once she'd figured that part out, the rest was easy.  
  
Her fourth key fit the ignition perfectly, and Hermione turned it and pressed on the gas pedal. The car sprang to life. She smiled at Draco. "Ta da."  
  
Draco clapped. "That's very good. It's running. Now we just have to figure out how to make the thing move."  
  
"I told you I know a little. You've got to trust me about this." She reached down and adjusted the set so she could easily reach the pedals.  
  
He gave her a skeptical look.  
  
"Really, I can! My dad once let me sit on his lap and steer, when I was about five. Besides, it can't be that hard. Everyone does it. Now buckle your seat belt." She said the last part sternly, in a voice very similar to the one her mum had always used.  
  
"My what?" Draco looked around, confused.  
  
"Seat belt. It's above your shoulder. Protection in case of a crash."  
  
"You're really inspiring my confidence in you, Granger." He fumbled awkwardly with the belt before finally getting it snapped into place.  
  
Hermione ignored him, and turned on the headlights and windshield wipers. She was beginning to like the feel of sitting in a driver's seat. The wizarding world certainly had its excitements and advantages, but sometimes, Hermione missed being a regular teenager, and doing things like this.  
  
Well, not exactly like this, of course. Driving in a downpour with dogs chasing you and a passenger you either hated or wanted to kiss senseless, or maybe both wasn't exactly a normal Muggle activity.  
  
"Ready?" she asked Draco.  
  
"I think."  
  
She didn't let him finish, but slammed her foot down on the gas pedal and turned the wheel sharply. The car shot forward, then up, as they hit something.  
  
Draco looked out the window. "Hermione," he said, "You've just run over one of those dogs."  
  
"I don't see that being a problem, do you?" She let up on the gas, and the car lurched.  
  
"Bloodthirsty, aren't you?"  
  
"It's kill or be killed." She eased down on the gas again, beginning to get the feel of the car. It's a good thing I won't have to turn for a while, she thought.  
  
Draco had turned around in his seat, as much as the seatbelt would allow. "The dogs aren't following us."  
  
"Well, that's a good thing."  
  
"It would be better if there weren't one on the car."  
  
"WHAT?!" Hermione turned back to look for herself, and turned the wheel sharply, throwing them both to the left. "Sorry," she said. Then, "Did that get rid of him?"  
  
"No, it didn't, but if you keep it up, you may get rid of me." He sounded sick, though Hermione didn't turn to look at him.  
  
"Brace yourself, I'm trying again." This time, she turned the wheel sharply to the left, slammed the brakes, turned the wheel to the right, and hit the accelerator. This is rather fun, Hermione decided.  
  
"Hermione, stop it!"  
  
"The dog's still there?"  
  
"Yes. Though the contents of my stomach are in danger of being lost. What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"I'm trying to get rid of the dog! I can't believe it's still there. Do you think its paws are adhesive? Maybe that's some sort of strange zombie mutation. It's fascinating, isn't it?" She kept driving, but at a steady pace, with the car pointed straight ahead. Or as straight as she was able to manage. The bloody thing seemed to be veering to the left no matter what she did.  
  
"I don't care about the dog's mutations. For all I know it's nailed to the car. Just get it off. Without killing us."  
  
"I tired getting it off. I don't know what else you want me to do. I can't very well drive and hex the dog at the same time." She looked into the rearview mirror and saw the dog's face pressed against the back window. "I think it's physically impossible that the dog's still there at all. It should have flown off when I hit the gas."  
  
"I'll tell it that. Maybe it'll go away." He unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled into the back seat. Knocking on the glass, he said, "Oh doggie! Nasty little zombie doggie! You're not supposed to be here."  
  
"Draco get back up here!" Hermione cried.  
  
"You're such an ugly little zombie doggie, aren't you? Didn't read your physics book like a good dog."  
  
"Draco, that's not funny! What if it breaks the glass and gets you?"  
  
On cue, the dog snarled and snapped at the window. Draco turned around and got back into his seat next to Hermione. "I thought it was funny."  
  
"You think it's funny to tell first years that the Bloody Baron likes company."  
  
"That is funny. You should see their faces when they get back from visiting." He laughed.  
  
Hermione jerked the wheel again. "Sorry," she said. "The look on your face is very funny, though." She paused, thinking. "I don't suppose the dog is gone?"  
  
"He's making himself comfortable."  
  
"I hope he's not marking his territory. Do you think we should shoot at him?"  
  
"I'm out of bullets. You used them all to make that key. Besides, if I missed he'd just jump through the glass and eat me."  
  
"You do have a point there, but it's moot. All right, so swerving doesn't work, and we're out of ammunition. Do you have any ideas?" Hermione was alternately pressing down hard upon the accelerator and the brake. Instead of moving the dog an iota, it just made her sick. She hoped the dog at was sick, too.  
  
Draco glared at Hermione, but said nothing.  
  
She continued to drive as though they were in an obstacle course.  
  
The dog licked the back windshield.  
  
"I've got an idea," said Draco.  
  
"As long as it doesn't involve getting out of the car, I'll try it," Hermione said.  
  
"No, it doesn't. Stop the car."  
  
"What? Why?" She slowed down.  
  
"Just stop the car."  
  
She slammed the brakes, perversely happy when Draco slammed into the dash. "Okay, I've stopped the car. What do you want me to do now?"  
  
"Nothing." Draco had opened the glove box, and was looking through it.  
  
"Are you trying to find anything in particular?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Not really. Just." he held something up. "What's this for?"  
  
"It's an ice scraped. For when there's frost on your windows. What are you going to do with that?"  
  
"How do you open the windows?" he asked, ignoring her question.  
  
"I'm not telling me until I'm sure you're not going to get us both killed."  
  
"I'm going to play fetch with the dog."  
  
"Draco, that's. actually, that's quite a good idea. See the little button? Just there? Press it, and the window should go down." She pointed.  
  
"All right." Draco rolled down the window and leaned half of his body out the car. "Dog!" he yelled.  
  
The dog's ears perked up, and it moved closer to Draco's side of the car.  
  
Ah, thought Hermione, it's not glued to the trunk after all.  
  
Draco swung his arm back, and waved the ice scraper in the air before throwing it a good distance. The dog jumped off the car to chase it. Draco pulled himself in, rolled the window up, and said to Hermione, "Drive."  
  
"Wow," said Hermione, "Who would have guessed that zombie dogs like to play stupid games?"  
  
"Actually, I guessed it," said Draco.  
  
"I suppose you did, didn't you?" said Hermione, and laughed. "We may just make it out of here alive. I've a plan."  
  
"What? We enchant the car like Potter and Weasley and fly to Hogwarts?" Now that they were in no immediate danger of a zombie dog attack, Draco had started fiddling with parts of the car. He'd managed to turn the radio on, and it hissed static.  
  
"Turn that off, it's distracting me. And no, it's much simpler than that. We've just got to find a phone, and I'll call my parents."  
  
"What could they do? They're Muggles." Draco didn't turn the radio off, but began turning dials.  
  
"What they can do," said Hermione, very offended, "Is owl Dumbledore. Then they'll be able to find us. They might not even know we're gone, at this point. We can't have been here more than two hours."  
  
"Whatever you say. Isn't this thing supposed to play music?" He's managed to turn the volume completely down.  
  
"If you use it correctly. Anyway, stop that. You wouldn't know any of the music even if you got it to work."  
  
They were swiftly approaching the edge of the city, and Hermione had gotten more confident with her driving. She suspected that they'd soon find a place to pull over and call for help.  
  
And then the car started to slow down. Hermione looked at the gas gauge. The needle was pointing beyond E. "Bugger!" she yelled. 


	10. Rescue Me

"Desperation: In these silences something may rise." - Stephen King, Desperation. (SO not from Resident Evil.)  
  
*  
  
"Why are you slowing down?" asked Draco.  
  
"Gas," said Hermione, pushing on the accelerator in some kind of illogical hope that if she just pressed hard enough, the car would continue to move. "We're out of it."  
  
"That's bad?" He was still fiddling with the radio. If he didn't stop it soon, Hermione was going to hit him.  
  
"Yes," she said, through gritted teeth. "The car needs gas to run."  
  
"So, you're saying that we can't go anywhere else?"  
  
"I am."  
  
"Huh." Draco was now tapping the radio lightly with his wand. He didn't look at Hermione when he spoke.  
  
The car gave one last shuddering spurt ahead, then ground to a halt. Hermione hadn't even managed to pull over to the side of the road. She banged her head against the steering wheel, causing the horn to sound loudly. She hadn't been expecting it, and jumped, banging her knee on the underside of the wheel.  
  
Perfect. Hermione suppressed the urge to scream, and instead fiddled with the car until she'd managed to turn on the emergency flashers. She only hoped that the first person to find them would, in fact, be a person, and not a zombie. Or anything else. She looked over at Draco, who was now poking his wand into the CD player.  
  
Hermione snapped. "Would you stop that and at least pay attention to the fact that we're not stranded in the middle of the road, not far from a town filled with zombies?" She grabbed his wand and held it above her head.  
  
At least she'd succeeded in getting his attention.  
  
Draco gaped at her for several seconds before any words came out of his mouth. If she hadn't been so mad at him, Hermione would have found the look quite hysterical. As it stood, though, she only felt like shoving his wand down his throat.  
  
"Have you gone mad, Granger?" Draco said, when he could finally form words.  
  
"I should ask the same of you. You're like a toddler, sticking his fingers in things. Next thing I know, you're going to be teething on the seats. We're in a bloody mess here, and I'd appreciate it if you showed some proper respect."  
  
"Would you like me to panic?"  
  
"Maybe. At least act a little disturbed."  
  
"How's this?" He pulled a face, raising one eyebrow, opening both his eyes widely, and biting his bottom lip.  
  
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. She stopped when she remembered how cross she was with him.  
  
"You know," she told him, "You're beginning to sound disturbingly like Ron."  
  
The face disappeared, and Draco grabbed for his wand. When he had it in his hands again, he resumed his prodding of the radio.  
  
Hermione looked at him quizzically. "Are you actually trying to do something with that, or has this town affected the few brain cells you have?"  
  
"So the great brain of Gryffindor finally catches on."  
  
"What are you doing, then?" Hermione could think of no purpose, unless Draco was intent on listening to music.  
  
"I do know a little about Muggle science, contrary to popular belief. This thing works through transmissions of sound waves, right?"  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"Well," Draco continued, "I thought, that maybe if we could send sound waves like they're received, we might be able to contact someone at Hogwarts."  
  
Hermione's eyes lit up. "Draco, that's positively brilliant! Let me help." She pulled her own wand out from under her thigh, where it had been resting during her driving excursion.  
  
"Now I'm brilliant. A minute ago I was Weasley."  
  
"Well, you still sound a little out of character. But that's not the point. Anyway, while your idea is brilliant, I'm not sure that I've the knowledge of radio waves or geography to make it work. If we manage to reverse the signals, how do we know that the message we're broadcasting is getting to Hogwarts and not, say, Voldemort?" Hermione was now studying the radio in an intense way that mimicked Draco's earlier actions. She'd moved from the driver's seat to the middle seat, and was leaning over Draco's legs. Her head was probably obscuring his view of the radio, but she didn't care.  
  
"When I was playing with this thing" he tapped the tuning bar "it flashed the words 'Convenient Plot Device: Hogwarts wavelength' when I got to a certain point. I thought that was a pretty good indication." Draco swished Hermione's hair away from the face of the radio with his wand.  
  
Hermione tried to swat the wand away, but only managed to get her hair tangled around it. She sat up, and tried to untie the knot, using both hands. "It's too easy. Since when do these Convenient Plot Devices work for us?"  
  
The wand was thoroughly stuck. Hermione wondered if he'd somehow managed to find some chewing gum to drop in her hair. She began pulling, haphazardly. Between Draco and those damn birds, she'd be bald by the time they made it back to Hogwarts.  
  
"It's all we've got, unless you fancy walking in the rain. Here, let me help you with that." He pushed her hands out of the way, and went to work on untangling the wand.  
  
"No, thank. We'll stick to your plan."  
  
"There." He'd gotten the wand free from her hair.  
  
"How did you do that?" she asked.  
  
"Magic."  
  
"Cute. Work on the radio." Hermione fingered her hair, amazed to find no broken strands. Maybe he did use magic.  
  
They soon realized that, even if they did find the right spell to reverse the way the radio worked, they wouldn't know if they'd made contact. It was rather frustrating, and after nearly thirty minutes of tapping the radio, muttering random spells, and shouting at each other, Hermione had had quite enough.  
  
"I give up!" she cried.  
  
She sighed and sat back in the driver's seat, fooling with the controls until she'd reclined into an almost horizontal position. She closed her eyes.  
  
"Fine," said Draco, sitting back in his own seat, and trying to make it slide back as Hermione had done. He only managed to move it back several inches. The seat back was still in its full and upright position. He growled at it.  
  
Hermione opened one eye and looked over at Draco. He was bent over the seat, hands concealed under it, apparently searching for the reclining lever. She watched him find something and smirk, only to have the seat back more forward instead of back. She giggled.  
  
"If I'd have known I was going to be the comic relief here, I never would have gotten in the damn car with you. How do you make the seat do that?" He waved his hand.  
  
"You have to press the seat backwards, with your back, while you're holding that lever down."  
  
Draco tried again, to no avail. "You hexed my seat while I wasn't looking, didn't you."  
  
"Yes, Draco, I did. I thought it would be a much better use of my time than trying to figure out the radio. After all, it's my greatest dream to be stuck in a car with you, with no hope of rescue."  
  
"When did you get to be so sarcastic?"  
  
"I'm not sure. Oh, for heaven's sake, you're going to amputate a limb if you keep at it that way. Let me help you." Hermione moved from her own seat until she was next to Draco.  
  
He was still bent over the seat, fooling with the controls.  
  
"Hold the lever down," said Hermione.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Are you holding it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"All right." She pushed sharply back on his seat. The resistance wasn't as great as she'd anticipated, and Hermione found herself flying backwards with the seat.  
  
Draco sat up, turned around, and looked at Hermione. Her arms were dangling off the sides of the headrest into the back seat. Her face was pillowed on the seat, and she was panting; the fall had knocked the wind out of her. He laughed, and leaned back in the seat with her.  
  
She glared at him. "I don't think it's funny."  
  
"Turnabout is fair play. And thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." She started to push herself up from the seat and away from Draco. "I guess we really should try some more with that radio. I haven't seen a single car on the road since we've been here."  
  
Draco snaked his hand up and around Hermione's side. "Let's take a little break from the radio."  
  
Hermione was about to protest that they really didn't have time to waste, and besides, she wasn't about to kiss him. Again. But then his hand started tracing little circles on her side, and she forgot what she'd been about to say. She looked at him and discovered that at some point, he'd moved his face only inches from hers. She was looking directly into his eyes.  
  
"Hi," he said.  
  
"Um," said Hermione, but wasn't able to finish the thought, as Draco's lips covered her own.  
  
Oh, this was nice. Draco's lips and hands and - when had his leg moved over hers? Never mind that. She wiggled in the seat until their bodies were touching from head to torso. Her hands found their way to his hair. She moaned into his mouth.  
  
Draco had moved one hand to Hermione's cheek and was gently stroking it. Such a move spoke of tenderness, and it confused her. Shouldn't Malfoy be rough and thoughtless? Damn him for messing with her worldview.  
  
When he pulled away from the kiss, she used the hand resting on the back of his neck to pull him back to her. She traced his lips with her tongue, and then parted them, tracing his teeth. The hands on her back crushed her tightly to him, as the kiss deepened.  
  
How long they'd been kissing, Hermione wasn't sure. She could have stayed in the car with him forever, with no thoughts of zombies, dogs, or returning to Hogwarts. Something in the back of her consciousness was still alert enough to pick up sound, however, and there was definitely a tapping on the window.  
  
"Umfph!" she said into Draco's mouth, and used her hands to push him away. "Get off. Do you hear that?"  
  
Tap tap tap.  
  
Hermione looked out the window, but it was clouded with steam. Blushing, she reached across Draco to wipe it clean.  
  
She screamed. Standing outside the car was a very wet, very cross looking Severus Snape. 


	11. There's No Place Like Home

"You bet your life it is." -Tori Amos, "Cornflake Girl" (Perhaps the complete antithesis of Resident Evil.)  
  
* When Hermione screamed, Draco pulled himself up to the window to look out himself. He, too, gave a startled cry, and backed away from the looming figure outside. Turning to Hermione, he said, "I guess we did get through to Hogwarts."  
  
Hermione was busy straightening her hair, and her clothing. She fingered her neck gently, sure that she was going to have a hickey soon, if there wasn't already one there. "It would appear so," she said, not making eye contact with Draco.  
  
Snape tapped on the window again. His lips were moving, but Hermione couldn't hear what he was saying.  
  
"Open the window," she hissed to Draco.  
  
Draco sat dumbly for a second, then remembered how to work the power window, and pushed the button down.  
  
".points from Gryffindor!" Snape was saying.  
  
Hermione's immediate reaction was to moan about the unfairness of Snape taking points from her house and not Draco's. She would have said something about it, too, had Draco not covered her mouth with his hand.  
  
"Good evening, Professor," said Draco.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," sneered Snape, "If you're quite through with your extracurricular activities" his lips twitched as he said the last words "I have better things to do than standing in the rain while two addle-brained students play find the snitch."  
  
Hermione blinked. Draco gaped. The jumped further apart than they'd already been. Neither moved to open the door.  
  
If, at that moment, a large dog had come and bitten Snape, Hermione would have been forever grateful. Hell, she might settle for a large dog coming to bite her. Anything to get out of the situation she was currently in. This was worse than the zombies.  
  
"Is one of you going to open this door before the end of the school year?"  
  
Hermione wondered why Snape didn't open it himself, and thought maybe he didn't know how. Unbidden laughter escaped her as she imagined Snape trying to open the car door from the wrong direction.  
  
"Ms. Granger!" Snape snapped. "Another ten points from Gryffindor!"  
  
Hermione stopped laughing.  
  
"Sir?" said Draco in an uncharacteristically timid voice; "I can't open the door if you're standing there. I'll hit you."  
  
Then Snape did something Hermione thought she'd never see; he took points from his own house.  
  
"Ten points, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said as he stepped away from the car, "for your cheek. Get out, both of you."  
  
Finally recovering from the shock, both Hermione and Draco started to move to their respective doors. Hermione was slightly surprised that she could move at all. She'd thought herself paralyzed from the combination of heady kisses and Snape's unfortunate arrival.  
  
She found, though, that she was perfectly capable of getting out of the car, and walking round to Draco's side. She didn't even stumble, and her knees were quickly losing their wobbly feeling. The rain pelted down, rewetting clothes that had just begun to dry.  
  
"Professor," Hermione said to Snape, and nodded.  
  
He glared in response. "As I've already told Mr. Malfoy, I'm not enjoying this excursion in the least. Let's skip the pleasantries."  
  
Right, thought Hermione. If I hadn't said something, he'd have reprimanded me for being rude to a professor. She bit her lip, and tried her best to look scared and repentant. Really, she was just cold and tired.  
  
Draco was looking downright insolent. He'd opened his door, but instead of fully closing it and stepping out, he was leaning over the frame. He winked at Hermione.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," said Snape, "If you're quite through leering at Ms. Granger, I'd like to get back to Hogwarts before the end of the night. The entire school is looking for you. I hope you're satisfied at the trouble you've caused us all." The tone he said it in clearly said that by "caused us all" he meant, "caused me."  
  
"People are looking for us?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I believe I just said that, Ms. Granger. Yes." Was Snape shivering?  
  
"I didn't realize, Sir," said Hermione. "I'm sorry we caused so much trouble. You were able to receive our calls?"  
  
"Dumbledore claims he heard strange sounds coming from some statue or other. He performed a locating charm on the two of you, based on the frequency and volume of the signals. Apparently, our Headmaster is quite good at Muggle sciences." Snape stopped, perhaps realizing that he'd been talking in a conversational tone to students. Roughly, he added, "I had the misfortune of being the first staff member he stumbled upon and was thus dispatched to retrieve the two of you while he called off the hunt."  
  
Hermione nodded, and looked to Draco, who had made no move to exit the car fully. He seemed determined to not make the situation go smoothly.  
  
"Well, that's good, I guess." Hermione said.  
  
"Yes, Ms. Granger. I'm sure your classmates will be delighted to know they've been closed off in their towers while you and Mr. Malfoy were enjoying yourselves," Snape sneered.  
  
"That's not fair!" cried Hermione.  
  
"She's right, you know." Draco slammed his door and leaned against the car. "It hasn't been all fun. We've spent a good deal of time fighting zombies and rabid dogs."  
  
The look on Snape's face clearly said he didn't believe a word of it.  
  
"It's true!" added Hermione.  
  
"Save it for the Headmaster. I'm sure he'll have a word with both of you upon your return. Now, hold my hands, both of you. We're going to apparate." Snape held his hands out.  
  
Hermione was hesitant to touch him - afraid, almost that his skin would burn her. She placed her hand in his, and hoped the apparating wouldn't take long.  
  
It didn't - when she looked up again, Hermione could see the outline of Hogwarts standing tall in the night sky. She breathed a sigh of relief and gladly dropped Snape's hand, reminding herself that she'd surely lose even more house points were she to wipe her hand on her blouse.  
  
On Snape's other side, Draco had done much the same as Hermione, and now walked round to stand by her, rather than be separated by the body of the Potions Master. They began the trek back to Hogwarts. At least, Hermione reflected, it's not raining here.  
  
When the finally reached the entrance, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were there waiting for them, along with a grumpy looking Headmaster. Hermione wasn't sure she'd even seen Dumbledore look cross. This certainly didn't bode well.  
  
"It's not your fault!" a voice in the back of her mind cried, but Hermione still felt guilty. While she'd been snogging Malfoy, the entire school had been worried about her.  
  
"Ah, Severus," said Professor Dumbledore, "I see you've found our missing persons. Hermione, Draco, are you all right?"  
  
"Yes, sir," they answered in unison.  
  
"Good. Please come with me."  
  
Draco and Hermione exchanged looks. Dumbledore started down the hallway, presumably heading towards his office. They followed him, staying several paces behind so they could whisper to each other. Somewhere along the line, they'd become conspirators.  
  
"What do you think he's going to say to us?" Draco asked.  
  
"He's probably not going to congratulate us on our survival skills, I'd guess," Hermione answered.  
  
"You'll find out soon enough," said Dumbledore from ahead.  
  
Hermione and Draco quit speaking.  
  
They reached the Headmasters office, and Dumbledore muttered the password. He held the door open, gesturing for them to enter. When they were inside, he closed the door. "Please," he said, "Have a seat."  
  
They sat.  
  
"I'd like to hear what happened to the two of you," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Well, sir." Hermione began explaining. Draco would chime in, adding details about zombies and dogs. They both tactfully did not mention the amount of time they'd spent kissing. When they were done, Dumbledore said nothing.  
  
Hermione shot Draco a nervous look. Was it possible Dumbledore had some sort of snogging sensors? Oh god, her neck! Hermione's hand snapped to the hickey she knew must be standing out like a target on her pale neck. To compound it, she blushed.  
  
Draco, damn him, looked absolutely unruffled.  
  
Dumbledore spoke. "The two of you were certainly very resourceful. Lesser students may not have found a way back, or ever survived. I commend you for that."  
  
He stopped, and Hermione heard an unspoken "but" coming on.  
  
"But," he continued, "I cannot ignore the circumstances that landed you in the situation in the first place."  
  
Hermione blinked. She thought they'd been alone in the hallway before. whatever had happened. Then she remembered - there was a painting in that hallway, a particularly chatty shepherd girl. That's how Dumbledore must have found out.  
  
"I'm sorry, Headmaster," Hermione began, "I was late for class, and."  
  
Dumbledore held up his hand and silenced her. "I'm not interested in hearing your excuses, Hermione. With the entire school in an uproar over your disappearance, I believe it would be remiss of me to let this incident go by unpunished."  
  
Hermione gulped.  
  
"Therefore," continued the Headmaster, "I've decided that the two of you will serve a detention together." 


	12. The Breakfast Club

"He kissed her, he kissed her, he kissed her, little by little by little." Gregory Maguire, Wicked. (Okay, I've obviously stopped even trying for RE quotes. I'm a lazy ho. Deal with it. ^_^)  
  
*  
  
Hermione spent the rest of the night in her room, ignoring the many knocks and voices through her door. She hoped they'd all just think she was sleeping, or that spending that much time with Malfoy had traumatized her, and she needed recovery.  
  
In truth, she did need to recover, but for altogether different reasons.  
  
Grumpily, she pushed Crookshanks off her bed, lay down, and covered her eyes. Tomorrow, she'd have to get up early to serve her detention with Draco. Not that she'd have spent the time sleeping in, anyway, but really, she'd like the option to at least be open.  
  
She was very much not looking forward to her detention. Besides the simple fact of having to spend more time with Draco and his lips, there was the matter of the detention itself. They had to clean Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Without using magic. Hermione thought that perhaps she'd been wrong in thinking Dumbledore was benign all these years.  
  
There was another knock on her door. In response, Hermione covered her face with her pillow. Times like these made her very glad that the Head Girl got her own private room.  
  
"'Mione?" came Ron's muffled voice.  
  
She didn't answer.  
  
"Hermione!" It was Harry this time. "We know you're not sleeping in there. Open up."  
  
Hermione concentrated on making them leave using only the power of her mind.  
  
"We're not going away until you talk to us." Obviously, it wasn't working.  
  
Bugger all.  
  
Hermione got off the bed and stalked to the door. Maybe if she pierced them with a nicely timed glare they'd leave her alone. She opened the door and fired.  
  
Ron smiled.  
  
Damn him. That was the problem with having friends who knew you well. They were never scared away by the looks that froze strangers and scared puppies.  
  
"Fine, come in." Hermione opened the door wider, and swept her arm inwards in a mocking welcome.  
  
Cheerfully ignoring her mood, Ron walking in and sat down on her bed, bouncing it a little. Harry came in more cautiously, and took a seat next to Ron. Hermione leaned against her dresser and stared down at them. "Well?" she asked.  
  
"Well. Well, she says. Can you believe that, Harry?" Ron said.  
  
"Um." Harry stammered, tactfully avoiding anything that would upset Hermione more than she already was.  
  
"Well," Ron continued, "What the bloody hell happened to you this afternoon?"  
  
"You already know. I'm sure the entire school knew the moment Draco and I got back. I'm tired, I'm cranky, and I just spent the afternoon fighting zombies. I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"Oh, come on, Hermione. Nothing this exciting's happened in a long while. The least you could do is share it with your friends." Ron had never learned when to stop.  
  
Hermione glared.  
  
Crookshanks, eager to side with his mistress against the two boys, leaped onto the dresser and began batting at Hermione's hair. Distracted, she swept the mass into a ponytail, held up by her fist.  
  
Ron gasped. "What," he said with emphasis, "Is that?"  
  
"It's, um," Hermione stammered, trying to think of something remotely believable. "A zombie tried to bite me." There, that sounded good.  
  
"Actually, I think it looks more like a hickey." That was Harry, who'd been so good until now. Damn the traitor.  
  
"Well, it's not. Would you two please get out of my room now? I'm sure you've heard that Dumbledore assigned a detention that I've got to complete tomorrow morning." She walked over to the bed and grabbed a hand from each of them, tugging.  
  
With much protesting, they left her room.  
  
She sank down into the bed again. It was going to be a long night, and an even longer morning.  
  
*  
  
When Hermione woke the next morning, she was surprised to find that she'd forgotten to change into her pajamas. She'd spent the night in her (now considerably tattered) blouse. When she moved, all the muscles in her body seemed to protest at once. Things were certainly starting out the way she'd expect them to on a day such as today.  
  
She managed to make her body move in the correct way to change clothes, freshen up, and get downstairs for breakfast. She ate her meal silently, ignoring Harry and Ron and purposely not looking over at the Slytherin table, where she could feel several sets of eyes boring holes into her back.  
  
Ginny, who was sitting to Hermione's right, did a good job of keeping her brother at bay. However, she kept whispering in Hermione ear that Draco was looking in their direction. From the way she said it, Hermione knew Ginny suspected something was up.  
  
Hell, the entire Gryffindor house suspected something was up.  
  
The whispering was so annoying that Hermione was almost glad when breakfast was over, and she could start her detention. She stomped off to the head table to wait for Dumbledore, not caring that she left a trail of gossip in her wake.  
  
Draco was waiting, too. "Hi," he said.  
  
"Humph," said Hermione. She'd be damned before she talked to him with the whole school watching.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to smear your perfect Gryffindor image."  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy." Hermione explicitly did not look at him, though her hand wandered carelessly to her neck. She was quite glad she'd thought to cover the mark with a charm this morning.  
  
"Testy, testy. I hope you're not going to be this way the whole morning. I'd almost rather face zombies." She glared at him, and he added, "I said almost." Then he winked.  
  
Hermione blushed, and willed Dumbledore to finish his damn tea already.  
  
For once, her telepathic powers seemed to work, for the Headmaster appeared in front of them. "Ms. Granger. Mr. Malfoy. I trust you're both ready for a morning of hard work?"  
  
Hermione and Draco both nodded.  
  
"Good, then. Follow me, if you will."  
  
They started walking. When they reached Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Dumbledore stopped. "Here we are." With the wave of a wand, he produced two buckets of water, a mop, and a rag. "You have until noon to scrub the place down. I'm putting a ward on the bathroom that ensures no one else will enter. It will also," he added, "Let me know if the two of you are engaging in the any petty arguments like the one that got you here in the first place." He gave them a stern look.  
  
"Thank you, Headmaster," said Hermione. "We'll be fine, thanks."  
  
Then he was gone, and she was alone with Draco, again. Hermione couldn't help but think that Dumbledore had chosen this detention for that exact purpose. The meddling old goat.  
  
A quick scan of the bathroom told Hermione that Myrtle either wasn't there, or wasn't making her presence known. At least they had that working in their favor. She dragged the mop and one bucket into the room. "Coming?" she called back to Draco.  
  
"If you'd give me a chance, yes."  
  
She tried not to interpret that statement as having more than any surface meaning.  
  
"I'll mop. You can scrub the walls. Then we'll switch, and I'll take the toilets."  
  
"That's generous of you, Granger." Draco picked up the cloth, and began scrubbing.  
  
"I know," Hermione said.  
  
They worked in silence for a bit. Then Hermione found her mouth moving, and words coming out of it. Why she'd chosen to speak, she wasn't quite sure, but speaking she was, nonetheless.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Why were you. why did you kiss me?"  
  
"Because I wanted to." Was the blunt reply.  
  
"Well, yes. But why?" She'd stopped mopping now, and was watching him, as he scrubbing rough circles on the stone wall. At her words, he stopped, and dropped the cloth into his bucket.  
  
"Granger, do you have to be such a girl about this?"  
  
"Yes," she said, "Quite frankly I do. I am a girl, which you've noticed, I'm sure." She let the mop drop to the floor.  
  
Draco sighed heavily. "There isn't any deep answer, if that's what you're looking for. It's just. you're pretty," she blushed at that, "and when you're not talking as if you've got all the answers to everything that could possibly be, you're actually fun."  
  
"Oh," Hermione said. She dipped the mop back in the water, and started to mop again.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Why did you kiss me?"  
  
"Oh Draco," she said, mockingly, "Do you have to be such a girl about this?"  
  
"That's not funny," he said, though Hermione was giggling too hard to hear him. He walked over to her and fixed her with a mean stare. "I answered you."  
  
"Fine," Hermione said when she'd stopped laughing. "I kissed you because I liked doing it. And you're not so bad yourself, when you're not putting down everything in the whole world."  
  
"So," said Draco, moving closer to Hermione.  
  
"So?" she challenged.  
  
"So what now?"  
  
Instead of answering, she kissed him on the cheek. In response, he kissed her, lightly, on the lips.  
  
Suddenly, it wasn't a light kiss anymore, but a deep one, tongues entwined, hands roaming over bodies, and Hermione found herself pressed against the wall. Sighing, she gave herself over to the sway of Draco's body, and twined her hands in his hair, pressing his face more firmly into the kiss.  
  
This wasn't such a bad detention after all, she thought, as she snaked an ankle around Draco's calf.  
  
Then, they were rudely interrupted by ghostly laughter, and a high-pitched voice saying, "I'm going to tell Professor Dumbledore!"  
  
Before they could break apart to stop her, Myrtle had fled the room. Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust.  
  
"Do you think we'll get another detention?" Draco asked.  
  
"Probably not," answered Hermione. "He didn't tell us we couldn't kiss. Just that we couldn't argue. Besides, another detention wouldn't be that bad." She grinned.  
  
"Granger," said Draco, "I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."  
  
THE END 


	13. Final Author's Notes

Based on some of the reviews I've been getting, I thought I'd post some notes to clear a few things up. *g*  
  
---  
  
- This isn't a crossover in the sense of it involving characters from both fandoms. (It's why I called it a pseudo-crossover in the summary.) I'm taking lots of liberties with the Resident Evil plotline, as I've never played the game myself, just seen my sister play it.  
  
- I'm writing this mostly for my sister. We came up with the idea together one night after she'd been playing RE: Code Veronica. She's a huge Hr/D shipper and has been poking and pestering me to keep up with the story. You have her to thank for the speed at which I wrote this.  
  
- I realize that I wrote both characters a bit to a lot OOC. *shrugs* I'm tried not to, but if you're going to fit a romance into a silly story, you're going to have to go OOC. Hopefully, they're at least a little bit recognizable.  
  
- Yes, the title is blatantly stolen from Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.  
  
- Yes, Draco's last line is blatantly stolen from Casablanca and. whoever wrote Casablanca. Good movie. Go watch it, if you haven't.  
  
- Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You make me feel all warm and fuzzy.  
  
---  
  
  
  
-Angie 


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